


Renegotiation

by Catsitta



Series: Just Business [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Mobfell (Undertale), Angst, Bara Sans (Undertale), Contracts, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Mobfell Sans (Undertale), Negotiations, Power Imbalance, Red is a Mobster, Red is bara, Relationship Negotiation, Romance, Sans Has Trust Issues (Undertale), Sans is a Mess (Undertale), Sans is smol, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Red, Whatever happened to my romantic comedy concept?, kustard - Freeform, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28837482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsitta/pseuds/Catsitta
Summary: Sans was always the one who demanded a written contract. But as they say, the devil’s in the details.Mob Kustard | Slowburn | Romance
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Just Business [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079678
Comments: 26
Kudos: 103





	Renegotiation

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third in a series. Read those first to make sense of this.

“i’ll take care of everythin’, sweetheart.”

Red tucked the revised contract into his coat and smiled like a used-car salesman who duped an unlucky schmuck into buying an overpriced lemon. Sans would never forget that smile until the day he dusted. The way those hellfire eyelights brightened with triumph and the corners of his mouth curled. He’d never forget the way he patted his breast pocket before rising from the vinyl booth in a smooth motion. The sight roiled the burger-and-fries in his nonexistent gut. Even dressed down in a fleece-lined leather coat and sneakers, Red radiated command and control. Why wouldn’t he? He just won. Sans signed more of his life and freedom away on that little dotted line—renegotiating a contract he himself demanded when Red wriggled his way past Sans’ better judgement.

Wasn’t the devil the one that was supposed to propose deals? Then again, Red always claimed amusement whenever contracts or schedules were brought up, like restrictions and clauses were merely part of a game he knew how to play far better than Sans. Maybe they were. He was a businessman running at least a shell of a legitimate operation for his underground schemes, which meant a couple pages of formal language barely compared to what he dealt with in his daily routine.

“jus’ pack up anythin’ personal yer wanna carry yerself, and the movers will take o’ the rest this weekend,” Red said as he extended a ring-laden hand. Rubies like drops of blood glittered beneath the fluorescents illuminating the cozy little diner, clashing terribly with its kitschy checker tiled floor and retro decor. Sans allowed him to guide him to his feet and swallowed as Red pulled him close, arm slung across his shoulders in a show of casual affection. “i’ll get that lil condo set up and deep cleaned. any requests? new floors will take a while, but walls are painted quick enough.”

“uh...not yet? m’not really much into interior decorating.”

Red chuckled and tilted Sans chin up, “no time like present to start a new hobby. iz yer home, dollface, make it perfect.” He wanted a kiss, Sans could read it as plain as the contract he wrote and signed. It was his job to be in tune to Red’s wants and needs. He’d gotten good at it over the past year. He’d always had a knack for reading people—Sans knew Red was trouble even without looking at his stats. Yet here they were, cozied up together like a couple on lunch together, when Sans should have long since cut ties and run. “just give the word and i’ll make arrangements.”

He leaned down and Sans let his sockets flutter shut, shifting up onto his toes out of habit. The kiss was as sweet as his promises. 

“oh, and sansy? think about my offer,” Red murmured as he pulled away, patting Sans’ front pocket where a small box dwelt like an anchor.

In what felt like a blink, he was in the back of Red’s car again, pulling up to his soon-to-be former apartment. Leaned against the larger skeleton’s arm, time passed in a meaningless daze, and if they conversed during that drive, he couldn’t recall a word. “get some rest,” Red murmured, kissing the top of Sans’ skull. “yer don’t gotta worry ‘bout nuthin’ no more. i’mma take real good care of ya real soon, promise, so take care o’ yerself a lil in the meantime.” And with that, Sans wordlessly climbed from the car and stared at the other, unable to peel his gaze from the phrases and stats that swarmed around him. 

Red was happy. So damn happy. All it cost was what remained of Sans’ pride.

There was no turning back now. No running away. 

Thus when the time came, he stood numb and idle as his belongings were packed up right in front of him. Papyrus expressed mixed feelings about the whole event. He didn’t want to move so soon again, but Sans forced on a smile and assured him that it was a good move, that he would love the new place even more. That Sans got himself a new job, making even more money and part of the deal was paid housing. Papyrus would get to keep going to his new school (they’d be even closer now!) and not only that, but he would be able to decorate however he wanted. Orange walls, a red door and shiny sports car posters. Didn’t that sound nice? And they could put up more shelves so he could display his action figures. By Friday, the pre-teen was humming with excitement.

Sans could barely move his feet. 

Since he changed the contract, he spent the evenings plagued with nightmares and the daylight hours were haunted by his own shame. The delicate dance with danger had turned into an elaborate tango and he wasn’t the one leading anymore. To call him a nervous wreck was an understatement. He flinched at every sound and trembled when went about the arduous task of remaking his schedule book. No longer was his time with Red relegated to the weekends or the occasional long evening. In exchange for a life of comfort, his every financial need taken care of, he was now essentially at Red’s beck-and-call. A _mistress_ without the title. Sure, he would still pay for ‘extras’ but would he be satisfied with Sans remaining _coy_? How long would it take before he decided that he should be able to get his way in the car or, worse, in his office, no matter how much Sans disliked fooling around too much in public places?

_You chose this. You could have broken the contract. Could have kept negotiating. You could have taken the other deal._

“SANS. YOU DON’T LOOK SO GOOD. HERE. LET’S SIT DOWN.”

Papyrus’ voice snapped him from his scattered thoughts and led him to the barren kitchen, and together they sat cross-legged on the cool tile. Papyrus snuggled against him and Sans pulled him close, hugging the other tight. He couldn’t forget why he was doing this. Everything he did was for the young skeleton right here in his arms. Papyrus’ happiness and future was all that mattered, and if he could shelter his innocence and give him the world, then by the Angel, he’d do whatever it took. 

He’d attend however many fancy parties as Red wanted. He’d dress up and smile and be the adorable arm candy he desired. He’d crumple up what remained of his dignity and pretend to be happy about it if it meant he would never have to look Papyrus in the eyes again and apologize when he said he was hungry. But truthfully, it wasn’t the thought of what could happen today or tomorrow or next week that left him paranoid. It was what could happen in the long term, if and when Red became dissatisfied with their new arrangement...especially when he’d once more expressed a desire for more than what Sans allowed.

“YOU HAVEN’T BEEN SLEEPING AGAIN.”

“just stressed by the move is all, kiddo.”

Papyrus crawled into Sans’ lap, far too large to fit comfortably, but neither of them cared, “YOU’RE LYING...YOU’VE BEEN LYING A LOT LATELY.”

“paps...no…” Sans began, but Papyrus cut him off.

“I’M NOT STUPID.”

“never said you were.”

Papyrus huffed, “THEN TELL ME ABOUT YOUR NEW JOB. I’M OLD ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND WORK STUFF.”

“y-yeah. you are, buddy, but...work stuff is really boring.” When the other gave him a judgmental stare, Sans relented. “it’s nothing exciting. i will be the personal assistant to a very important man, and because of that, i need to live close to where he works so i can help him whenever he needs me. i’ll be doing stuff like bringing him lunch and coffee, and taking notes while he’s in meetings. and i’ll be expected to go to big, important work events with him too. guess you could say i’m...i’m nervous i won’t do well and lose this job too. but that last part is nothin’ you need to concern yourself over, okay? i’m the adult here, so lemme worry about work stuff.” He promptly tickled the other and sent him squealing to the floor. Papyrus wailed with laughter and Sans attacked his ribs, using all of his big brother prowess to take advantage of his weak spots. 

Their play fight was a brief, and well-needed distraction.

Anything to take his mind off of contracts and promises. 

Anything that would make him forget for a moment how Red—after assuring him that if Red broke the contract or in the unlikely event he died, he would be entitled to a sum of money and the condo would belong to Sans—pulled out a little velvet box and laid it on top of the table. He didn’t open it, just slid it towards Sans, laying a dangerous, unexpected fork in the road. 

“course there’s another kind o’ contract we could negotiate if yer amenable,” he said so casually that it made his soul wrench. Sans made to push the box back, but Red laid a clawed hand over his in rebuke. “not askin’ fer no promises or declarations or nothin’...not today. but if yer change yer mind…”

“heh. told ya… i’m not big into the whole commitment thing.” Sans’ voice was shaky as he slipped the box into a pocket. “doesn’t suit me.”

Red shrugged, “i don’t want yer gettin’ my intentions all screwy in yer head, dollface. i care about ya. i want yer happy. even if it means signin’ a dozen of these silly little contracts yer insist on writing up.” This was the closest he’d ever come to voicing his love for Sans aloud. He picked up the heavily edited sheaf of papers, the changes blazed upon it in red ink. No doubt the next time they’d meet, he would have it all typed up, ready for Sans to read over and sign again, just so there was no confusion on the terms and conditions. “but there’s an easier way to make sure yer and yers are secure if i kick the bucket.” He cocked a browbone. “ _tibia_ honest, not sure if i should be worried or flattered ‘bout yer fixation on that.”

“if i work for you full time, for who knows how long, i can’t exactly put it on my resume. i’d like to keep a roof over my head.” 

“so cruel,” he sighed. “but at least i’ll be able to see ya every day and make sure yer wear real shoes. those things on yer feet are a crime against fashion.”

“ah yes, i’m to be the dorky intern. button ups and slacks.”

“more like my sexy secretary~”

“i’m startin’ to suspect you have a formal wear fetish.”

“ever’body looks damn fine in a well-cut suit. tho speakin’ of sexy secretaries…”

“put me in a dress and i will shank you.”

“spoil sport.”

“ya got me, m’the fun police.”

Sans blinked away the memory and cursed himself for thinking about the thing he was trying so hard to forget. He needed to focus on Papyrus and getting them settled in the new condo and a new routine. Not on the little box in his pocket…or Red’s most recent stats.

 **Red**  
LV 10  
WEAPON: Handgun  
ARMOR: Leather Jacket

_*Nothing would make him happier than if you said yes._

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. FINE. This is a kinda a oneshot series now and this is the transitional, info dump chapter. Feel free to hit me up with your thoughts and theories. I always love seeing those comments and replying when I can! In a way, it's everyone's enthusiasm that makes this kind of thing fun for me as an author to work on. Heh. And, like always, since the original oneshot was meant to stand alone, anything after it, including this fic, is just me expanding on an idea, and demystifying some of the lovely little chewy bits.


End file.
